


An Armoury Officer’s Tale, Part the Second: There’s No Place Like Home

by Setcheti



Series: An Armoury Officer's Tale [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm visits his new holdings at Maison de Roseau, formerly the home of his grandmother, with Trip and Travis in tow. But what sort of welcome will they find there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Armoury Officer’s Tale, Part the Second: There’s No Place Like Home

Three horses bearing finely-dressed riders cantered down the center of the little-used road and crested the last sloping hill of their journey, coming into view of the fertile autumn valley below while the sun was still riding high enough to gild the tops of the trees without lengthening their shadows overmuch. The lead rider halted his two companions with an upraised hand. “There it is, for good or ill, Maison de Roseau.” He squinted, keen gray eyes taking in the lands surrounding the stone manor house that marked the end of their road with an assessing eye. “Doesn’t look so bad from here, I must say. That field of grain over there…”

“Hay, my lord,” the younger, dark-skinned man on his right corrected. “But the one behind it looks to be grain, and I believe I see the branches of an orchard.”

“Overgrown,” the third man qualified, hair gleaming golden in the sunlight as he shook his head. “Shouldn’t look wild like that, I think no one’s been prunin’ the branches in a while.” He squinted as well, a knowing look in his blue eyes. “Apples, that explains it – someone’s been more worried about the size of the harvest, more branches means more fruit. Ain’t good for the trees in the long run, though. We’ll have a sight of work to do there, Mal, before the first frost comes.”

The dark haired man looked at him in much the same way he’d looked over the fields; it had not escaped Malcolm’s notice that his friend was no longer trying to hide his pain, as the arm wrapped firmly around his midsection silently attested. “Well, some of us will,” he replied wryly, snorting when the other man began to protest. “Trip, we have discussed this until I am tired of it; you are not fit to do anything at present save sit in a chair and be your impertinent self. If the task requires your assistance to be done properly, the chair can be taken to the orchard and you may direct the work from it.”

Trip flushed and started to straighten in his saddle before remembering with a wince why that was not something he should do. “I can’t just sit around an’ watch other people work. Tell him, Travis.”

“You can and you will,” the younger man shot back, hiding a smile at the shocked look his answer engendered. “In case you’ve forgotten, _Sir Charles_ , you were under orders just four days past not to leave your bed lest you wanted to be chained to it – orders from the king, no less. He may have excused you to ride with us, but we’d be courting treason right beside you if we allowed you to run free around the estate, much less do any sort of labor.”

“Yes, I do believe the king’s intention was for you to be _alive_ when we return to London,” Malcolm added. “Not to mention what his physician would have to say if you did not return much improved. It’s a seat by the hearth for you, my friend, and no more arguments about it.”

“You’re assumin’ you _have_ a hearth,” Trip returned. “And a chair, for that matter. You might have more need of me than you’d like to, Mal.”

The young lord snorted softly and turned his eyes back to the manor house sitting centered in the valley. “What I do or do not have remains to be seen,” he said. “And it won’t be so long as we sit here gawking. Come on, this is home for the next fortnight, we’d best be seeing about it one way or the other.”

They started back down the sloping road at a walk, noting with dismay that the closer they drew to the house the less well-kept it looked. “Should there be cattle there?” Malcolm asked Trip, pointing to a spot where several animals were nosing about for fodder under the trees.

“No,” the other man said shortly, frowning. “They should be penned in a meadow, not wanderin’ free around the park like that. Be all right if it was sheep, sheep crop the grass an’ keep it even – cattle rut in into mud with their hooves an’ leave piles that draw flies.” He shook his head. “If I remember right what sort of ground they’ve got out your old House’s way, they most likely let their stock graze off the moor, don’t they?”

“When I’ve seen them that’s where they’ve been, yes,” the young lord returned. “Someone keeps them, but it wasn’t Father so by his order it stayed a mystery to me as well.” He turned a chagrined look on Trip. “Lord Stewart has nothing but contempt for landed pursuits. The sea was all he cared for and all he deigned to teach me, even though for the most part I could not learn it.”

“Not your fault,” Trip reassured him. He shifted in his saddle and winced again. “And you’ll learn it better this way, I’d think. Can’t learn nothin’ right from someone who hates what he’s teachin’ you.”

“No, you certainly can’t.” Malcolm chuckled then, and his friend raised an eyebrow. “I was just thinking,” the young lord told him, “about how his face must have looked when the king removed this estate from his holdings. He always hated this place, but being told he was losing it to my keeping must have rankled nonetheless.”

Trip smiled as well. “Would have been a sight to see.”

 

They rode into the courtyard just more than a quarter-hour later, and Travis helped Trip to dismount while Malcolm stood at his horse’s head and scowled at the state of things as he could see them. No one at first came to greet them, but finally a frightened young man ventured out from around a corner of the house and approached them. “M-my lords, if you are looking for the master of this house you have come in vain. We have no hospitality to offer…”

“I can see that,” Malcolm interrupted him, waving a disapproving hand at the unswept steps and littered courtyard. “And I will excuse it as your former master has so obviously left you to your own devices, but this sorry state of affairs will not be permitted to continue. Now, have you the means to care for our mounts?”

The young man stiffened and began to back away. “I have told you we have nothing to offer!” he called out, louder and not so politely as the first time. “Get you gone from here, go trouble the innkeeper at the village!”

Malcolm’s scowl deepened, but it was Travis who stepped forward to confront the impertinent servant. “You will not speak so to your new lord!” he reprimanded sharply. “Nor should you offer such rudeness to any who approach this house in peace, you have forgotten your place – it is your master’s word alone that may turn guests from his door. Now answer Lord Malcolm’s question: Can you see to our horses, or must we send for someone more willing to take your place?”

“N-new lord?” The young man froze where he stood. “We have a new l-lord?”

“You do, by order of the king.” Trip moved forward, drawing the young man’s eye to himself. He spoke much more gently than either Travis or Malcolm had. “Your old lord has not been here to be a master to you in a good long time, has he? And when he didn’t see to your keep, the noble ‘guests’ that stopped here ate weeks off your winter stores, am I right?”

“Yes, we like to starved.” The young man came nearer again, cautiously, and bowed. “I apologize, my lords, for my rudeness – I thought you another pack of errant knights seeking free lodging. If you will permit me, I will take your mounts to the stable myself. It is better kept than the yard,” he assured them quickly. “We have two nags who are bedded there in my charge, my word your horses will be well cared for.”

“See that they are,” Malcolm told him, not unkindly, holding out his reins to be taken. “I’ll not hold your impertinence against you, under the circumstances – and so long as it never happens again, understand?” The young man nodded, wide eyed, and Malcolm found a small smile for him. “Good. What name should I call you, then, when I tell those inside who has my horse?”

The young man smiled back widely and bowed again before taking the offered reins. “I am Michael, my lord.”

“This is Sir Charles, Michael,” Malcolm said, gesturing. “And my squire Travis. You may put the horses up for the night, we will not be wanting them again.”

“Aye my lord.”

Michael took the other horses’ reins and led them off, and as soon as he had rounded the corner out of sight Malcolm moved to Trip’s side to offer the support he knew was needed if they were to ascend the dirty stone steps that Travis was already mounting. “Thank you, my friend. I’m afraid Travis and I were about to handle that rather badly.”

“No, you were all right,” Trip disagreed, accepting his friend’s help gratefully but only out of necessity. “They need to respect you, and Travis, an’ if you’re too soft right at first it won’t happen. You did just right.”

“I’ll take your word for it – and I believe you did right as well, in that case, by providing the understanding that I could not.” Travis had one of the doors open by this time, and a waft of dank air flowed out down the steps to greet them. “Good Lord,” Malcolm choked. “Perhaps we’d be better off outside.” Trip nodded but did not answer him, doing his best to hold back a cough of his own, his free arm pressed tight to his side, and that lack of response made the young lord frown in concern. “Perhaps not. Let’s see what we’ve got in here.”

The main hall did boast a large hearth and several sturdy and comfortable chairs, but the walls and high ceilings were festooned with cobwebs and the furnishings dust-covered, and the hearth ashes Travis was poking at had long been cold. “There has not been a fire here since before the summer,” the squire observed.

“Conservin’ wood,” Trip explained, settling gingerly onto a hastily beaten-off chair with Malcolm’s help. “No need for fire in a room no one uses.”

“And doubtless a hall so unwelcoming may be expected to dissuade unwanted guests from lingering,” Malcolm added thoughtfully, looking around. It had not escaped his notice that the main doors had been unbarred, or that no one had come to greet them. “I remember this room from my childhood, there were hangings on the walls and a blaze like a roaring hellmouth firing the hearth, and my grandmother would let the servants roast apples and potatoes in the ashes to warm their pockets as they did the outside work. It was a pleasant place then, although today you may not believe it.”

“We’ll see it made so welcoming again, my lord,” Travis assured him from where he was dusting off a log of wood that had apparently lain waiting to be burned for some time. “With a master such as yourself in this house things will soon be set to rights.”

Malcolm snorted. “I certainly hope you’re right, Travis. Any more neglect and this place would be like to come down around our ears – and I’d have the devil’s own time explaining _that_ to his majesty.”

That made Trip laugh, which wasn’t good for him and had the effect of drawing Malcolm back to his side, the concern on his face deepening even further. “I’m okay, Mal,” Trip reassured him, only a little breathlessly. “I just need to sit for a while, an’ this chair seems just fine to me for doin’ it in. Why don’t you go on and have a look around?”

The young lord just looked at him for a moment, and then he returned his attention to Travis. “Start a fire in there, if you can,” he instructed, gesturing toward the dusty logs in the hearth. “And then go search out the servants. We’ll need some sort of supper, and rooms prepared, and hot water for bathing. I’ll go and pay my respects to my grandmother and then I’ll rejoin you here, and after things are well set in motion I’ll need to be about finding my father’s papers to see how much more neglect lies buried beneath all this dust.” He scowled at the motes sparkling in the air and then batted his hand through them, making them dance. “Tomorrow this has to be dealt with, if there aren’t enough servants still here to do it properly we’ll hire from the village.”

“Hopefully we’ll have enough here to do the work,” Travis replied. He got flint and tinder and struck them, and on his third try the kindling caught and rapidly ignited the dust into an astounding display of flickering color. “The ashes will have to be dumped first thing in the morning,” he said, standing up and brushing dust and soot off his hands. “One good gust from the door and this room will be black with them, they’re at least half a hand deep. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you, m’lord? Not all who live here may be pleased to find out they have a new master.”

Malcolm patted the sword at his hip and smiled slightly. “I believe I can convince them that the change is for the best,” he said. “I will be fine, Travis. It’s more Trip I’m worried about…” His smile widened when he realized his friend was half asleep in the chair. “That’s all right, then. Go on with you, I’ll meet you back here when my duty is attended to.” And with that he turned and walked back out of the still-open door. Travis watched him go, checked the fire and Trip once more each and then headed out of the room in the opposite direction to find the servants.

 

Trip had been pleasantly drifting on the gentle edge of sleep when a thought intruded, presented itself to him, and then refused to take its leave when he tried to ignore it. Nags, the boy had said, there were two _nags_ in the stables that were under his care. But the mounts they had entrusted to him were no more nags than they were camels, two highly bred geldings and Trip’s own fine blooded mare. Would the boy know how to manage such horses? Trip was already growing attached to the one Jonathan had gifted him with, and he hated to think of her being badly handled even if only through ignorance. His body protested moving from the chair, but the former blacksmith forced himself to stand and quickly, quietly made his way to the door. He would just go check on the horses himself, and then he would return to his seat with none the wiser.

 

Travis was having little luck finding anything but dust in the manor house; even the mice appeared to have left for more hospitable accommodations. He knew there were people about, though, as the dust stirred into the air announced clearly that someone had walked through the halls not much before himself. He had called out twice but stopped when nothing answered his summons, not liking the way his voice echoed off the blank stone of walls and floor and appeared to give the risen dust a hollow voice of its own to mock him with.

As he drew nearer the servants’ part of the house, however, there was more sign of recent passage and sounds of life began to disrupt the tomblike stillness. Travis smiled. The kitchen, of course. He found the hinged door and pushed it open, somehow not surprised to find the room on the other side dust-free. A fire blazed over clean logs in the hearth and heated a kettle that hung steaming from a hook to one side, the worktable was clean but covered with implements that sat as though they were about to be used, and a three-colored cat raised its head to stare questioningly at him from where it was curled atop a sturdy stool. A basket of new apples sat beside the back door, their ruby skins in rich contrast to the string of parchment-wrapped onions that hung overhead, and a pile of potatoes and turnips beside a cabbage on a nearby counter hinted at a hearty meal in the making. More than one or two servants, then…

A man came in the back door bearing a bucket of water and stopped in his tracks when he saw Travis standing there. He was not quite so tall as the squire but would definitely have been taller than Malcolm, and although years had drawn lines in his face his arms were yet strong and his shape so sturdy that he could be nothing if not a cook. Travis bowed to him politely. “Master Cook, our master sent me to see about supper and rooms, and he wished water heated for bathing as we have been on the road these three days past.”

The older man snorted and went to put his bucket down beside the counter that held the potatoes. “Our master, he says,” he grunted, mostly to himself. The look he turned on Travis was angry. “Does ‘our’ master have a name, boyo? Say your own master, ours is Lord Stewart and he does not come to this place. And what are you to tell another man’s servant what’s to be done? Why doesn’t this master of yours come make his own demands of me if he wants aught done in another man’s house?”

Travis stiffened, but reminded himself that this was not an errant stable boy to be taken to task by him. “I am Lord Malcolm’s squire, and doubtless he will come here himself but in his own time,” he replied, although his tone held an edge that might well cut a man. “He wished first to visit the grave of his grandmother, would you place yourself before that?”

The cook paled. “His…boyo, your lord is our lady’s little Malcolm, who rode off to become a knight?”

“My lord was a knight,” Travis answered, not sure what to make of hearing his master called ‘little Malcolm’. “Our king made him a lord and gave him this portion of his family’s lands for his own as he said they had been shamefully neglected.”

“Aye, that they have,” the other man agreed. Something warmed in his face, and he no longer looked angry. “Relax, boyo, I knew your master when he was knee high and have loved him all his life – and I see you do as well. He’s been made a lord, you say?”

Travis nodded. “For his honor and loyalty, the king saw fit to reward him.”

The cook chuckled at that. “Aye, he had plenty of those, more than that father of his ever did have.” His face suddenly clouded again. “I’d guess Lord Stewart did disown him then, didn’t he?” When Travis nodded again he sighed. “Well, maybe it’s for the best; our little Malcolm never did like the sea, or even a pool that was too deep. And it was all Lord Stewart’s doings. I heard our sainted lady mistress say he nearly drowned the boy when he wasn’t much more than a babe in arms, tryin’ to prove to some other fool that all Reeds could swim like the fishes from their birth.”

“That would explain his…dislike of deep water,” Travis replied. The tale didn’t really surprise him, considering what he’d heard from the other servants at court about Lord Stewart while they were still in London. “My master has named his new house Maison de Roseau, in memory of the years he spent in France.”

“France, you say?” The cook thought about that and then shrugged his wide shoulders. “Well, it’s a place to be, I suppose. Now, how many of you are there? I’ll need to put on more potatoes, that I know, and those turnips can go back in the basket because I remember our young master never cared for them overmuch. If you’ll go in the cupboard over there and fetch the sausage out we’ll have stewed apples and dumplings to go with it, and as luck would have it we’ve had milk today from our old cow so there’s cream to be had as well.”

Travis did as he was asked and got the sausage, noting the bareness of the large cupboard as he did so. “We’ll be needing more provisions before the winter comes, I see,” he observed to the cook, who was piling apples onto the worktable. “There are but three of us, by the way, and we’ll be here a fortnight before Lord Malcolm must return to London. About beds for us…”

“We’ve beds aplenty if there are only three of you, boyo,” the cook told him. “And I’ll have you know we’ve had a good harvest this season, it’s just not kept where uninvited guests might find it and see fit to extend their stay. But aye, we’ll be needin’ a few things more if our new lord intends to winter here.” He winked one pale blue eye at the younger man. “What’s fit for us to dine on day in and day out would shame me to set before a man who’s been honored by the king.”

That made Travis laugh, thinking of some of the things he’d found to fill their bellies with when Malcolm had only just started the tourney circuit and their purse was mostly empty most of the time. Finding Trip had remedied that dilemma in large part, though, as the smith had seemed to have a knack for finding goodwives who were willing to give him potatoes or bread in exchange for chopped firewood or a mended pot. “You’ll find our master easy to please,” he said. “Although we ate so much rabbit in France that it might be best to leave it off the menu for a time, if you can.”

The older man nodded. “Aye, I believe I can do that. Now I’d guess Michael is with your horses, so when he comes in I’ll set him to pulling water for the bath – you’ll want it here in the kitchen with the rest of the house in the state that it’s in. And once I’ve got things begun in here we’ll go see about the rooms. I think I hear Michael comin’ now, as a matter of fact.”

Footsteps were approaching the back door, but the person that appeared following them was not the stable boy. Trip colored and ducked his head when he saw Travis. “Travis, I was just…”

“Sir Charles, I believe Lord Malcolm told you to stay where he put you,” the squire interrupted him sternly, crossing past the surprised cook to face the shamefaced man who had stepped the rest of the way into the kitchen and who was decidedly pale in spite of his embarrassment. “He’s not going to be happy you disobeyed him, you know. This is Sir Charles,” Travis told the staring cook.

Trip took another step forward and bowed as much as he was able. “Master Cook, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Travis caught his arm when he almost failed to maintain his balance, but Trip didn’t acknowledge the assistance. “Could you tell me what became of your blacksmith? I found a beautiful forge by the stables, but it’s thick with dust.”

“We’ve had no blacksmith here for a long time,” the cook replied, seemingly not knowing what to make of him. “If you require aught done, we can send someone to the village…”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Trip beamed at him. “I just didn’t want to poke myself into someone else’s place. If there’s metalwork to do then I’ll…”

“NO,” Travis insisted firmly, startling both men. He scowled at Tucker and tightened his grip on his arm. “ _No_ , Trip. You’re barely fit to stand or ride, much less swing a hammer. He was injured trying to save our master,” the squire explained to the still wide-eyed cook. “He’d be like to split himself open were he to try to work the forge, and then the king would have me skinned.”

“Ah, so that’s the way of it.” The older man’s face had cleared, even as Tucker’s had reddened again with embarrassment. “Now, now, boyo,” he chuckled. “Never be ashamed of honorable-bought weakness. How is it you aren’t parked beside the fire in the main hall, then? Or did our new master leave you there and you wandered away to explore?”

“I went to check our horses,” Trip answered, avoiding his eye. “He didn’t bring me so I could laze around.”

For some reason this seemed to please the cook more than anything, and he laughed and patted the younger man’s arm. “You’ll do, boyo, you’ll do,” he chortled. “We haven’t seen your like ‘round here in a dog’s age, or yours,” he told Travis. “It’s a fair wind that his majesty has set to blow the dust out of this place, a mighty fair wind. Now why don’t you take Sir Charles here back to the fire where he belongs, and I’ll send up our girl to fix chambers for him so he can rest properly – you’ll get no helping done if you make yourself ill, boyo,” he scolded Trip lightly. “And I’ll fix something hot for you while you’re waitin’. Be off with you now, I don’t need the likes of the two of you clutterin’ up my kitchen.”

Travis returned his grin and led Trip back through the dusty house to the chair he hadn’t been supposed to leave. “Checking the horses?”

Trip blinked up at him. “The boy said they had _nags_ in the stable, Travis.”

“Lord Malcolm is still going to kill you,” the squire chuckled. “He told you to stay here – and somehow I don’t think the horses were in the forge you explored.”

“It was right by the stable, I had to have a look.” Trip wasn’t the least bit repentant. “It’s a beautiful forge.”

“Did I hear the word ‘forge’?” Malcolm wanted to know, kicking up dust as he came in through the still-open main door. He took one look at his pale friend and scowled. “You’ve been exploring, haven’t you? I knew we should have brought those irons like the king suggested.”

“He went to check the horses,” Travis offered. “So, Trip, how were they faring?”

Trip smiled. “They’re fine, Michael wasn’t lyin’ about the stables bein’ well kept. And he said he’d bring in our stuff once they’d dusted off a place to put it.”

“I’m more concerned about a place to put _you_ ,” Malcolm insisted, glaring at him. “Someplace you’ll stay when you’re put there – other than the forge, that is.”

The other man’s smile widened. “It _is_ a beautiful forge, Mal.”

“I’m certain, but it lacks the one thing you are in dire need of at present – a bed.”

“We’ll be arrangin’ that at once, m’lord.” The cook had come in bearing a tray on which sat three steaming mugs. He set the tray on the hearth in a spot where Travis had brushed away the dust and beamed at Malcolm. “Lord above, boyo, but it’s good to be seein’ you here. You’ve grown some since I last set eyes on you.”

Malcolm, for his part, looked like he’d seen a ghost. “I don’t believe it,” he all but whispered. “I’d thought when Grandmother died you’d have left for certain, Cook.”

“Leave my home?” The older man smiled warmly. “No, never that.” He handed one of the mugs to Trip, making sure the younger man was actually gripping it before letting it go, then offered the second one to Malcolm with a bow. “Supper is taken care of, and the bath will be ready soon so as to have it while the kitchen is warm and the sun is up – the nights have grown chill of late. And we’ll be gettin’ this one’s,” he gestured at Trip, “room ready first, but her ladyship’s chambers have been kept better than the rest if you care to take those, m’lord.”

“I’d prefer them to my father’s, yes,” Malcolm agreed with no little relief. He had not looked forward to taking the rooms his father’s presence no doubt still lingered in. “How many servants are still here, Cook?”

“Just six of us, for the house,” was the answer. “The housekeeper is stayin’ over to the village tonight, but she’ll be back on the morrow and we’ll start settin’ the place to rights. We’ll not be gettin’ the dining hall cleaned enough to use this night, though, so would you much mind havin’ supper in the kitchen?”

Malcolm smiled. “I’d be honored. I used to think it quite the treat to be allowed to sit in his kitchen,” he told Travis and Trip. “And unlike the rest of the house, I’ve no doubt _that_ room is clean as scrubbing can make it.”

“Aye,” Cook agreed, and bowed again. “I’ll come to fetch you when all is ready, m’lord.”

He left, cursing the dust under his breath, and Malcolm took a deep draught from his mug. “Did you find what you were searching for, my lord?” Travis asked him.

“Yes, I did, thank you.” The young lord sighed. “Her grave has been well kept, very well. But I saw much to be done there and back.”

“And I saw much to be done within the house.” Travis shook his head. “We’ll have seen the winter through before this house is to your standards.”

“The forge…” Trip began, but stopped at the look Malcolm gave him and returned his attention to his own mug. “It’ll take half a day at least to clean it, an’ three good logs to burn it out,” he muttered into his cider.

Malcolm rolled his eyes but refrained from comment. “You might be surprised by how quickly things are accomplished,” he told Travis instead. “None of the rugs or hangings are here, and where I might at first have thought them rotted off the very walls I’d wager now that Cook has them stored someplace away from mice and thieves alike.”

“As he does the winter stores,” the squire agreed. “He said they’d a good harvest this year and those cattle we saw were fat, even if they were where they weren’t supposed to be.”

“Bein’ in the park is bad for the park, not the cattle,” Trip put in.

“Would I could say the same about you being in the forge.” Blue eyes slanted a slightly wounded look up at Malcolm’s words, and the young lord relented slightly. “All right, I’ll give you benefit of the doubt that you truly were worried for our mounts and found your beautiful forge along the way and not by design – but that doesn’t mean I’m happy to find you three shades paler than when I left you.” He drained his mug, handing it to Travis with a meaningful look as he clapped Trip gently on the shoulder. “I’ll be searching out my father’s library if either of you have need of me.”

“I’ll come to find you when our things are brought in and your bath has been readied,” Travis told him. He did not add that he would see to it Trip stayed put; his master’s look had spoken that order to him quite plainly. He waited until Malcolm had left the hall before settling himself on the hearth near the tray. “I must admit, I never thought when I went into service with our master that we’d end in such a situation as this.”

Trip chuckled softly. “Nor did I,” he admitted. “This is a long way from the tent we’ve called home these past years. Can’t say it isn’t an improvement, though.”

“It is that – and you’ll have your soft bed back soon as well,” the squire teased; Trip had admitted to missing his down-filled mattress on their journey from London. Taking a deep draught from his own mug, he sighed in appreciation over the richness of the contents. “I think I may grow to like it here, once the dust is gone. It seems a peaceful place, our new home.”

“It may be the dust that makes it so, just smothered everything into silence,” Trip told him with a tired smile. He had his own mug cradled in his hands, enjoying its warmth and only just remembering to sip from it.

Travis held his peace, drinking his own cider and planning out in his mind what would need to be done over the next few days, and by the by he stood up to rescue Trip’s half-empty mug before it could fall from a lax hand. He stood looking down at the older man with critical eyes, noting the lines of pain drawn into the pale, sleeping face which was much thinner than it had been just over a week ago. The squire smiled; Trip may have lost weight, yes, but he thought that with such a cook in the house as they appeared to have that condition would not be allowed to last long. He withdrew back to the hearth and began to work on finishing Trip’s cider as his own, still enjoying the peace of the place, be it smothered in dust or no.

 

Some little time later Michael came in from the direction of the kitchen, bowing to Travis once he reached him. “Sir Charles’ room is ready for him, or nearly so,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Hoshi has been readying it and she is nearly done, but I thought you might not want to delay settling him. He was very pale when he came to the stables, and Cook says he’s been hurt?”

Travis polished off the last of Trip’s cider and stood, brushing ashes and dust off his clothing. He recognized a plea for gossip when he heard it. “I’m surprised news hasn’t reached even here regarding the happenings at the London tourney,” he told the young groom, knowing full well that they wouldn’t have. “Lord Malcolm’s chief rival plotted to kill him in the last match – in front of the king, no less – and Sir Charles put himself in our master’s place and took the spiked lance meant for him in his own side.” He had to smile at Michael’s look of wide-eyed wonder. “I will share the full tale of it with you at another time, but for now I may need your help getting Sir Charles to his bed.”

“I am awake, you know.” Trip’s blue eyes were open, at least partially, and he was giving Travis an irritated look. He made an effort to push himself more upright in his seat, wincing. “But I won’t say no to the bed, not at all. We’ve had a long ride these three days.”

“That we have,” Travis agreed, moving quickly to his friend’s side and assisting him to stand up out of the dusty chair. “My own bed will feel good this night as well. You may lead us to the room, Michael,” he told the groom with a nod. “Just stay close in case I need you on the stairs.

Michael positioned himself near to Trip’s other side but did not touch him, and the three of them crossed the dusty hall and began to ascend the stairs that had been lurking half-unseen in the shadowed and dust-shrouded rear of the hall. It took them no little amount of time to mount them, and by the time they had reached the second level of the house and made their way down the long corridor to the prepared room Travis was bearing half of his burden’s weight and Michael the other half. Once inside the bright, welcoming chamber Michael left them to find Hoshi and Trip lay back on the bed, whiter than the fresh sheets that covered it, and closed his eyes. “Those stairs were steep,” he panted.

The concerned frown Travis had already been wearing deepened; the stone stairs were wide and shallow, ascending to the upper floor in a graceful sweep. He did not comment, though, only saved the remark to repeat to Malcolm later as he removed his friend’s dirt-encrusted boots and set them aside. “You should sleep,” he said instead, soothingly, as he pulled off Trip’s blue overtunic and loosened the lacings on his shirt. “I’ll come to fetch you once Lord Malcolm has had his bath, and then it should be time for our supper as well. The cook is making stewed apples with dumplings, I’m certain that will be worth braving the stairs to you again.”

One blue eye opened, then the other, and Trip blinked at him. “Stairs aren’t steep at all, are they?”

“No.” Travis patted his arm. “Rest, Trip – or I’ll leave you trapped up here and eat your share of the supper myself. Now I must go see what else our master needs from me. This time do me the favor of staying where I put you, all right?”

Trip sighed and closed his eyes again, waving the younger man off. “Go on with you, I won’t be bravin’ the stairs again unless I think you forgot my dinner.”

Another pat to his arm, and then booted feet retreated and Trip let himself sink even further into the mattress. It was soft and in truth he wanted to just stay in this bed far more than he wanted food, but he was not going to tell Travis that and have him worry Malcolm with it for no good reason. His slide into sleep was interrupted, however, by the sound of soft, light footsteps scuffing the stone floor. Their girl, the cook had said, and Michael had said Hoshi was readying his room. Was this Hoshi? With an effort, Trip opened his eyes to find out.

Blue cloth met his gaze, a gown of what once must have been fine material with a protecting apron of rough homespun wrapped around it, and the wearer of that gown froze in place on seeing him for just a moment before nervously continuing her work. Trip watched her idly, frowning over how frightened she looked. She was a little bit of a thing, long black hair and large brown almond-shaped eyes offset by golden skin, and he thought he had never seen anything like her before in his life. “If I might ask, my lady, where do you come from?”

He’d been careful to make his voice gentle, but she still started at the question. “I come from…an island,” she answered. Her words came forth with the barest hint of a native accent coloring them, one that was unfamiliar to his ears but pleasant all the same. “And I am not a lady, but only a humble servant, sir knight.”

“I’m Lord Malcolm’s blacksmith – or will be again, so soon as I’m well,” Trip told her. “An’ as he’s been my master for better than three years and now is yours as well, you can call me Trip.”

She blinked at him suspiciously, twisting slender hands in her apron. “What do you want from me?”

“I want for you not to look so scared,” he answered honestly. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Hoshi.”

She cocked a finely arched eyebrow. “You were staring at me.”

“I’ve never seen anyone like you before, that’s why I asked where you were from,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea.”

Hoshi appeared to be weighing his words, and then the eyebrow arched again. “Why should I believe you? Our master doubtless wants from me what his father did, why should you not want the same?”

“His father…?” Trip sorted that out and then sat up abruptly, wincing as the sudden movement pulled at his still-healing wound and made the room spin around him. “Now wait just a minute, you mean to tell me his father brought you here to be his…”

“He _left_ me here,” she interrupted sharply. “He took me from my home because he needed someone to speak for him and because his bed was empty, and when he came back to this cold, wet country he brought me to this house and left me here as I was no longer of use to him.”

Trip just stared at her for a long moment, and then with a growl he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. “We’re goin’ to find Malcolm,” he told her. “He needs to know about this.”

Hoshi all but stamped her foot. “He is the lord’s only son…”

“His father disowned him, if the king hadn’t given him rank he’d be just like me,” Trip cut her off. “An’ the reason the king made him a lord in the first place was because he’s so damned honorable, too honorable for his own good. Now come on, I bet he’s still someplace downstairs.”

The young woman watched him make his way across the room with a puzzled frown on her face, and it was only when he faltered at the door that she pulled out of her confusion and hurried to his side. “I was told to see that you stayed in bed, Sir… _Trip_ , you should not be up. If it is our master you want, I will go find him for you and bring him here, yes?”

Trip looked down at her for a moment, and then he nodded. “All right, Hoshi. I don’t want to get you inta trouble. An’ three days on the road might’ve been a bit more exercise than I needed. Mal should be down in the library if he’s anywhwere, just tell him I need to talk to him about somethin’, if he has the time to spare for it.”

“If he may be disturbed, I will tell him – but you must stay where I put you,” Hoshi agreed. She herded her shuffling charge back to his bed and then hurried out of the room and down the stairs, her mind awhirl. Why had this man been willing to risk harm to himself for anger over her situation? And why had it angered him in the first place? He appeared to trust her new master, but would not the son be just like the father? Perhaps some had thought Lord Stewart, too, to be an honorable man.

Thinking of her old master made her shudder; she was standing at the heavy oaken door of the library now, and the man who she so feared and yet had pledged herself to see was just on the other side. Timidly she pushed open the door and peered around it, eyebrows arching when she saw that the room’s only occupant was a small, dark haired man sitting at the table with papers spread out around him. The man looked nothing like the tall, bluff Lord Stewart; emboldened by the thought that her confrontation had been put off, Hoshi came the rest of the way into the room and stopped before the table. “Could you tell me where I might find Lord Malcolm, sir?” she asked politely.

“You’ve found him.” The man lifted his head and she gasped; she was looking into her old master’s gray eyes, although they were set in a different face. A face which was now looking concerned. “Is something the matter, young woman?”

Hoshi swallowed and took a step back. “He asked f-for you, my lord.”

He looked puzzled for a moment, and then an expression of utter alarm flooded his narrow features and he stood up. “Trip asked for me? Is something the matter?”

“N-no.” She found herself hurrying to reassure him, and not nearly so frightened now; Lord Malcolm was a good deal smaller than his father, smaller even than his own squire. “He wished to speak with you, my lord, if you had time to spare for him, and I offered to find you for him as he is still weak and unsteady.”

The young lord relaxed somewhat, but not entirely. “You have my thanks for not allowing him to attempt the stairs, then,” he told her. “How far did he get?”

“So far as his own chamber door, my lord,” Hoshi told him. “But he returned to his bed when I told him I would come for you myself.” She bowed. “If you are not occupied, of course.”

Malcolm looked at her in puzzlement…and then he smiled. “He told you he was my blacksmith, didn’t he? And that you should call him Trip?” Hoshi nodded, confused, and he chuckled. “And what is your name?”

“Hoshi.”

It was almost a whisper, the fear rising up in her that he would know of her from his father, but no recognition showed in her new master’s face. “Well, Hoshi,” Malcolm told her. “If Trip asks for me you may consider that more important than anything I may be occupied with save the king’s own business – and he was my blacksmith, but that is not all he is. Call him whatever he asks, though, so long as there is no company; elsewise he is Sir Charles.”

“I…believe I understand, my lord.” She didn’t, really, but Hoshi expected she would in time. “Shall I tell him you will come?”

“I will come with you and tell him myself.” Malcolm set his papers aside under a weight and circled around the table to the door, which he held open that she might proceed him. “I’m afraid I am unsure which room was given to him, you’ll have to lead the way.”

“Certainly, my lord.” Hoshi felt a stab of fear again when she passed him at the door, but he made no move to touch her and she began to think that Trip had told her truly. Back up the stairs they went, but on entering the sunny chamber she stopped, almost causing her new master to bump into her from behind. “Oh no…”

“What?” Malcolm pushed past her…and then he smiled again. “Oh. Well I suppose that was to be expected,” he chuckled quietly. He walked to the side of the bed and touched his sleeping friend’s cheek, testing its warmth. “No fever, I think he’s just worn himself out. Do you know what it was he wished to speak to me about, Hoshi?”

Hoshi looked at the floor. “I do, my lord. But I do not understand it.”

She did not see Malcolm’s frown until he was suddenly before her, lifting her chin so he could look down into her face. “Was it to do with you, then?” When she shuddered at his touch he let go hastily, his gray eyes widening. Hoshi was surprised when instead of pressing her he turned back to the bed and began gently shaking the sleeping man awake. “Trip! Trip, wake up.”

Tucker came awake with a start, and then flushed with embarrassment and pushed himself upright against his pillows when he saw Malcolm bending over him. “Sorry Mal,” he apologized sleepily. “Didn’t mean ta fall asleep…”

“I’m the one who’s sorry for having to wake you, but I can see that the story you’ve found to tell me most likely shouldn’t wait,” Malcolm told him. He pulled up the chair by the bed and sat on the edge of it. “Tell me what he did.”

“Kidnappin’, from the sound of it,” Trip answered with a sigh. “She said he needed her to talk for him and…other things besides.”

“Oh good Lord.” Malcolm dropped his face into his hands, having no trouble guessing what ‘other things’ might have entailed. “Just bloody wonderful, the great Lord Stewart down in the islands someplace playing at being a pirate. And then he dumped his plaything here when his voyage was at an end. I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t gift her to one of his other captains or trade her with his cargo.” He sat like that a moment more, then lifted his head and looked straight at the frightened young woman. “Hoshi, is it possible for you to return home?” She shook her head; the shame of knowing her alive and defiled would be her father’s death. Far better she stay dead to him in her exile. Malcolm sighed again and straightened. “You may of course stay here if you wish to, but if you do not want to remain in my service I will do my best to find an acceptable situation for you elsewhere. The choice is yours.”

Hoshi dared to look at him, and saw apology in his eyes. They weren’t his father’s eyes at all, she reflected, save in color; her old master’s eyes had been hard as gray waves on a stormy sea and had never held such warmth, or such sorrow. She had to be sure, though. “You do not want…” He looked sickened by the very thought, and that decided her. “I would gladly stay, then, my lord. This is my home, and the people here have been kind to me.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Malcolm told her sincerely. “You may go now, Hoshi. I will see to Sir Charles.”

She bowed to him and scurried from the room without looking back. Malcolm waited until she was well away and then tossed himself back in the chair and arched an eyebrow at his friend. “Not even here a day and already hard at work, are we?” he teased. “And from your bed, no less, I _am_ impressed.”

Trip made a face at him. “I just noticed she seemed scared of me and poked around ‘til I found out why. Knew you’d want to know sooner and not later.”

“I can’t believe he did it. Like a bloody pirate, kidnapping virgins to serve in the captain’s cabin!” Malcolm exclaimed. “And then reviling _me_ for dishonoring the family because I rode in the lists! The absolute gall of the man, ‘honor above all’ my arse.”

That made Trip laugh, holding his side against the pain. “You’ll need a motto for Maison de Roseau,” he managed. “Maybe that should be it.”

Malcolm couldn’t stop himself from laughing over that as well. “I’m sure that would cause quite a stir among the rest of the landed gentry,” he agreed. “And I can just imagine the look of our standard, fluttering above the walls on a sunny day.”

This time Trip held back his laughter to spare himself further pain. “It would be quite a sight,” he agreed. “So did you find the records you were lookin’ for?” He correctly read the look on his friend’s face and smiled, shaking his head against the pillow. “Let me guess, they’re a mess.”

“What I could find of them, yes.” Malcolm shook his head as well. “So far they’re broken and woefully incomplete, and there doesn’t appear to be any sort of thought behind the way they were kept – or any consistency either, for that matter. How I’m going to decide what they mean is anyone’s guess, but I must decipher them and quickly as our time here is limited.”

Trip looked at him a moment, thinking, and then suggested, “Well, if you can’t use what’s there, why not just start over?”

Malcolm’s gray eyes widened; he hadn’t even considered that he could do such a thing. “But…”

“Yes, you can just start over,” Trip assured him, settling himself more comfortably. “It’s good to know what the place has _had_ , yeah, but it’s more useful to know what it’s got right now. You can go through the old messy records some other time, like over the winter, to figure out if you’re doin’ better or worse than before.” He sighed, closing his eyes once again and allowing the soft mattress to envelop him. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. We’ll get it all sorted out, I promise.”

He was asleep again nearly on his next breath, and Malcolm sat back in the chair and just watched him. “What I’d be doing without you I honestly don’t know.”

 

Trip slept through to that evening, and Travis brought his supper to him where he was; once awakened, and that not easily, the former blacksmith ate the simple, hearty meal that had been provided for him, expressed his appreciation of it, and then was asleep again. And so he remained until late the next morning, when he was roused from his bed by the sounds of years of dust and grime being banished from the house. The housekeeper had returned to Maison de Roseau as promised and had been overjoyed to have a new master; she had been hard about her work of putting things back in order ever since, and driving the rest of the household before her as she went. And once Trip had wandered somewhat unsteadily out of his room, she had driven him downstairs to the kitchen and left him there in the cook’s care.

The day outside the manor’s walls was brisk, with a sharp wind whose bite was a herald of winter’s near arrival, but inside the kitchen it was warm. The cook at once set out a hearty, if somewhat late, breakfast for Trip, and while he was applying himself to it chivvied Michael into helping him fill a bath. “You’ll have to stay in here until the water’s off your skin, boyo,” he warned the younger man, shaking an admonishing finger at the first sign of attempted protest. “No, they’ve got the house wide open to the wind’s chill, the better to chase the dust out and see it blown to some other place; and if I understand aright you’ve only just sweated through a fever a handspan of days past. A wetting in the cold air now will only serve to see you back in bed and our young master worryin’ himself over you.” He winked, though, to take some of the sting from his warning. “And he tasked me specially with seein’ that you don’t get up to mischief for a bit, so don’t you think I’ll be taking more than one eye off you, Sir Blacksmith Who Don’t Know What’s Good for Him.”

That made Trip laugh, although he’d been inclined to feel surly at the onset, and the pain in his side the humor brought with it reminded him that Malcolm did indeed have some little cause to worry for his health. So he acceded gracefully to the older man’s authority, and showed his willingness to do so by allowing the healing wound to be checked and asking to know more of the servants and the village. The cook, as Trip had rightly guessed, was a man proud of his knowledge of all around him, and gladly kept his mind occupied with tales until it was time for the midday meal.

Malcolm joined them late, and only after being fetched out of the library by Travis, and afterwards returned there with both squire and friend in his wake. The young lord had spent most of his morning fussing over his father’s records as well as those kept by the cook in his assumed capacity as steward of the house in its master’s absence. He waved a hand at the scattered papers as the other two men settled themselves, Travis insisting quietly that Trip remain nearer the fire. “I believe I may have found the measure of my new estate, but I can’t know whether I should be dismayed or pleased by it,” he told them. “Apparently pirates are amused by record-keeping and do it only as a diversion; the records he kept are so broken and whimsical they are all but worthless save as a testament to his lack of care for the responsibility entrusted to him.” He sighed. “So as you suggested, Trip, I started from scratch as though the situation were new, not old. There is still much to be gone over, but what I found is that the estate is much more well off than might have been expected, although I doubt those who live here have realized it.”

Trip was nodding, having expected as much. “So what do you want to do now? There’s work aplenty to be done, but we’ve only a week before we have to start back.”

Malcolm had been thinking about that. “I believe it would be for the best to set our efforts to correcting the most visible problems,” he said. “At present my holdings look neglected and therefore ripe for the picking, and I wish to send a clear signal to any erstwhile ‘guests’ that they are now neither. Restoring the inside of the house to decency I’ll leave up to Cook and the housekeeper, but of the outside I’m afraid I do not know what orders to give.”

“Have the cattle moved first,” was Trip’s advice. “An’ then order the park cleaned up after we’ve left again, to be done before we return.”

“Which will most likely be just before the winter sets in for good,” Travis agreed. “And that will give them time to finish bringing in the hay and aught else that may still need harvesting. The orchard should be attended to as well, but the outside of the house and the yard require the same attention the inside is receiving today, and I would say that should be done first.”

“Agreed,” Malcolm told him with a nod. “Those things would go a long way to correcting the deficiencies which were so obvious when we arrived yesterday, and with what help we have we should be able to accomplish what is necessary before we must depart again for London.” He turned a stern eye on Trip. “You _will_ rest and not help with any of those things, Trip. You need to grow stronger ere we leave here, keeping the three days ride that will follow our departure in your mind. Agreed?”

“Of course, Malcolm,” was the response. And Trip did keep it in mind…for all of two days, during which he rested as he’d been told to do and did naught more strenuous than give advice. On the third day, however, finding the house empty and himself feeling better than he thought any man should and still be lazing about, he made his way out to the neglected forge and cleaned it top to bottom, setting things to rights and laying all ready for use. It had been his intention to finish his self-appointed task by lighting the firepit that he might burn off the accumulations of soot and dust…but the need to take a rest on the bench outside before gathering wood was his undoing, as once he was down he found to his dismay that he lacked the strength to get up again. Travis found him there, pale-faced and half dozing in the sunlight, and with young Michael’s help dragged the former blacksmith back up to his bed and stripped him to his skin that he might not wander off again. Trip’s efforts in the forge had exhausted what meager reserves he had been able to rebuild, however, and it was a full day before he was again able to rise from his bed unaided and two more before anyone in the household would allow him to make his way down the stairs unaccompanied.

Malcolm took multiple opportunities over that time to upbraid his friend for his stubbornness and lack of care for his own well-being, and even then would not return Trip’s boots to him nor even tell him where they might be found; slippers, he stated repeatedly, were adequate footgear for an invalid, and if he found the stone floors too cold through their thin soles then he should prop his feet up before the fire. He did, however, deign to allow the fire in his study to be used for that purpose while allowing Trip to help him wade through years of poorly-kept records, for which employment against ennui his friend was exceedingly grateful and applied himself wholeheartedly to completing.

On the seventh day the entire household went out to the overgrown orchard and set it to rights for the coming winter. Malcolm, true to his word, had a chair brought and set Hoshi to the task of keeping Trip in it, and she did such an excellent job that the young lord resolved to set it as her regular duty.

In fact, he had decided to give Hoshi into his friend’s service by way of his own. Travis could not be expected to serve both their needs, and it would not be seemly to let him try – exiled or not, positionless or not, Trip still had rank nearly the equal of Malcolm’s by birth alone and it was only fitting that he have a servant to see to him. So Malcolm arranged the thing to his liking over the last few days of their stay at Maison de Rouseau, tasking their housekeeper with finding another girl to assist her while Travis instructed Hoshi in her new duties, and only telling Trip of the arrangement the evening before their return to London. He received no little argument from his friend over the matter, but in the end Malcolm’s arguments won out and they went to bed with the matter settled between them.

 

This time, three days on the road seemed to pass much more quickly than they had before, and all too soon Malcolm was riding up to the castle he had left so hastily a fortnight before in search of the missing friend who now rode beside him. “Do you think he’ll be…” he murmured as they passed the gate.

“I think he wasn’t expectin’ the place to be in half the shape we found it in,” Trip reassured him, only to frown himself. “Are you sure he…”

“He wasn’t angry with you,” Malcolm reassured in turn. “It will be fine, Trip.”

Trip sighed. “Hope you’re right.”

“He is,” Travis interjected quickly, stopping the conversation which he’d grown heartily tired of over the last three days. “And the one you should be worried about is the king’s physician – he was most displeased with the manner of your leaving, Sir Charles, I’m sure he’ll have much to say on the subject.”

Trip just sighed again and shook his head, pretending a very put-upon air which even made Hoshi smile behind her hand. She had grown very comfortable with her new place during the course of their journey, but its limits were well known to her and she did not stray beyond them. Travis, for all his apparent impertinence with his own master, had instructed her very well on that score, and Hoshi had no fears that she would be found lacking or bring shame upon the noble house she served while they were in London. And should this physician step beyond his bounds where her master was concerned…

Once Malcolm had announced himself to the guard, he and his companions were escorted into the yard and their mounts were taken to the stables while their belongings were removed to the rooms set aside for them. Fresh water and clean cloths were provided that they might remove the worst of the dust of the road from their faces and hands, and then they were led directly into the presence of the king, as he had apparently been eagerly awaiting their return. Malcolm bowed low when they entered the small audience chamber, with Trip bowing as best he could due to his healing injury, and handed off a scroll nicely wrapped in linen and leather to a nearby servant for the king’s hand. “I return as instructed with an accounting of my new holdings, Your Majesty,” he said. “And with Sir Charles as well.”

“Which is the return that pleases me most,” Jonathan allowed. He took the scroll and glanced over its contents, nodding. “Not so bad as I had heard, then. It was reported that the house and lands had fallen into disrepair?”

“They had been neglected, but there was nothing that could not be fixed, Your Majesty,” Malcolm told him. “What could not be accomplished while I was in residence is being attended to in my absence – a few servants who had been loyal to my grandmother still remained with the property, and they were pleased to remain in my service.”

“I’m sure they were,” the king snorted under his breath. He could well imagine how pleased the old family servants had been to have a real master to care for them once again, and most especially the blood son of the family who was so very unlike his father. He closed the scroll back up in its careful wrappings once again and set it aside. “We will go over this more closely another day. I know that you will wish to return to your holdings before winter draws too near, so you will stay here at my pleasure for a fortnight and then you may return to Maison de Roseau.”

Malcolm bowed again. “As Your Majesty commands.”

Jonathan nodded back, pleased by the ready and sincere obeisance his new young lord displayed. He would have to keep Malcolm near to hand while he was there in hopes that some of the older lords might learn from his example. And then he turned his attention to the man he had been most pleased to see walking into his hall. “Trip,” he greeted warmly. “Will you be returning to Maison de Roseau as well?”

“Yes, I will. Malcolm has offered me a place there, and I’m happy to accept it,” was the reply. “And I owe you thanks for the horse you gifted to me after my…departure from the castle.”

“No thanks are necessary, Trip.” Jonathan waved it off with a careless hand. “She was a favorite mount of mine, but I hadn’t the time to give her the attention such a fine creature deserves – I’ve no doubt she’ll be happier with you as her rider.” He straightened. “If you haven’t already heard it on the way back to London, the House of Tucker is once again out of favor and when I ordered him out of my presence Lord Charles the Second scurried back to his holdings like a kicked dog rather than the noble he once portrayed. But know that you are not out of favor, nor would you have been even had you refused a place at Lord Malcolm’s side. The disgrace your family has fallen into has cast no shadow on you in my eyes, and your reaction to it a fortnight past served only to display your overweeningly honorable – if impetuous and foolhardy – nature.” He unstiffened again. “In fact, Lord Klannagan expressed his admiration before he left to return to the Highlands – of both yourself and Lord Malcolm. And as his admiration is something not even I can always be certain I possess, you should consider any doubts you have slain and buried.”

Trip grinned at him, relaxing in his skin as he had not since they had come within sight of the castle. “He respects you – if he didn’t, you’d be missin’ cattle.”

Jonathan laughed. “Too true! I suppose I shall lay my doubts to rest as well, then.”      

It was at that moment that Phlox, the king’s physician, swept into the chamber, his face like a thundercloud, and with a bare nod to the king marched right up to the waiting men. Trip all but cringed away from the reproving glare being directed at him. “Well, you are _alive_ , anyway,” the physician observed sourly. “I suppose that counts for something.” He took a firm grip on the younger man’s arm and then nodded to the king. “Your majesty, Sir Charles and I are going upstairs now. He should be available to see you tomorrow _if_ he does as he’s told.”

To the physician’s startlement, a slight figure pushed itself between he and his erstwhile patient before the king could so much as open his mouth. “Unhand my master!” Hoshi demanded in a low voice, neatly dislodging his grip on Trip’s arm and glaring up at him. Phlox was even more surprised when she further addressed him in his own language, daintily yet firmly berating him for being so rough with a man not long out of a sickbed and fresh from the saddle besides – and in front of the king, no less!

Jonathan raised an eyebrow when his physician took a step back from the woman and bowed slightly, also responding in the foreign tongue. “Phlox?”

The physician straightened. “My apologies, your majesty,” he said. “My…professional concern for Sir Charles overrode my manners, as his servant has just pointed out to me. Once you are finished here, I would like to take him back to his rooms and examine him, that I might be sure he is healing properly and that the journey here has not overtaxed his strength.”

The king’s mouth twitched, but he nodded. “Certainly – and we are finished, the news Lord Malcolm and I have to exchange may wait until the evening meal.” He cocked his head. “Should Sir Charles take his own meal in Lord Malcolm’s chambers this night instead of joining us, Phlox?”

“That might be for the best, your majesty,” the physician told him. “Now, young woman, if you would bring your master we will see him settled upstairs.”

Hoshi bowed to him in response, and then again to Trip who smiled and followed her after Jonathan assented to his leaving with a nod and a wink. Once they were out of the hall the king turned a questioning eye on Malcolm, who shrugged. “The former lord of my holdings had…brought her there after one of his trading voyages,” he explained. New as he was to his rank, Malcolm knew that House matters were not for the king’s ears; the sordid details of Lord Stewart’s piratical misdeeds were the business of Maison de Roseau, not just by honor but also by Jonathan of Archer’s own strict law. “She has a particular talent for managing Trip,” he continued, “so I gave her into his service by way of my own.”

The king raised an eyebrow at that, and for a moment his expression was such that Malcolm had to wonder if perhaps the man’s espoused faith in Trip’s chivalrous nature had more to do with time and guilt than with a true belief in his old friend’s honor. “He won her loyalty the first day we arrived,” the young lord hastened to explain, putting that treasonous thought out of his mind. “Hoshi is…timid, but her first meeting with him was such that she learned not to fear him.”

“I see.” And Jonathan did; he saw quite plainly that there was a story here the ears of the king might not hear nor the lips of a noble utter in his presence. He was not unfamiliar with the weaknesses of those who trade their power on the seas, though, and Lord Stewart would not have been the first to bring a warm living trinket all unwilling back to English soil. Jonathan set that aside to think on another time. “Trip will be remaining in your household at Maison de Roseau, then?”

“If it pleases your majesty, yes.”

“It pleases me so long as it pleases him,” the king countered gravely. “Should he grow restive at Maison de Roseau, however, know that his presence will always be welcome here in London.” He waved a beringed hand. “You may retire to your chambers to refresh yourself, Lord Malcolm. The supper will be served just after bells, a servant will be sent to fetch you.”

Malcolm bowed. “Thank you, your majesty,” he replied, and then left the hall with Travis at his heels. He looked outwardly calm and unbothered by any thing, but to one who knew him well – such as Travis did – he was plainly concerned by something. Travis thought he knew what that something was, as it was also in his own mind: Trip had warned him, before they had left Maison de Roseau, that Jonathan of Archer was prone to favor that which he found interesting or amusing, but that his regard when it was of that sort should not be counted upon as it could change at a moment’s notice. And as Hoshi had also been given that warning, at first her behavior toward the king’s physician had startled Travis…but then he had understood when he had seen the flash of startled realization on the physician’s face. Hoshi had served for years aboard Lord Stewart’s ship as a go-between in negotiations, she was skilled at reading a situation and acting upon it in the best interest of her master – and she had been facing Jonathan of Archer, as Phlox had not. She had not been protecting Trip from Phlox…she had been warning Phlox of his king’s dawning displeasure at his interruption, and bought him the opportunity to apologize before aught could come of it.

Travis quickened his steps, leaning closer to his master. He knew he could not say anything outright, as the walls of the palace no doubt had the sharpest of ears, but he needed to know if his own thoughts on the matter were in fact correct. “My lord…”

“I saw,” Malcolm assured him in a low voice. “And I think I chose even better than I knew, she handled that situation with such skill. The king’s physician…has perhaps grown too used to taking liberties.” He found a half-smile for Travis. “I believe we shall all be quite glad to return home to Maison de Roseau in a fortnight, shall we not? His majesty’s gracious welcome and hospitality aside, I’m afraid London will never be much to my liking.”

Travis smiled back, much relieved. “As you say it, my lord.”


End file.
